We have grown up and along the way we have forgotten the magic of seeds, their importance and the hidden story they contain. As a child, seed for me was something my dad kept in a drawer in his greenhouse, brown paper bags and torn packets gaping open, the use by dates largely ignored because the seed contained within often wasn’t the variety named on the front.
I remember seeing old timers wandering with used envelopes of home saved seed spilling forth from their pockets. They often contained jewels in the shape of seed like Peggy’s peas – the flowers were cream, almost yellow and named by one old timer after his wife. Long after they were both gone, Peggy’s Peas grew on, though I doubt they made it out
